


That's Why I've Traveled Far

by prettyonthethrone



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: F/F, Mostly Canon Compliant, So am I tbh, cordelia is sentimental, it's Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 16:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyonthethrone/pseuds/prettyonthethrone
Summary: Cordelia reflects on her two marriages.





	That's Why I've Traveled Far

**Author's Note:**

> "And all of the things that I said that I wanted come rushing by in my head when I'm with you. Fourteen joys and a will to be married - all of the things that you say are very."
> 
> \- Sentimental Lady by Fleetwood Mac

Cordelia can’t sleep.

 

When she blinks open her eyes for the fourth time in one night, she knows she’s not falling back asleep. She lifts her neck just barely off the pillow so that she can see the time.

 

4:53 A.M.

 

 _“Could be worse_ ,” she thinks. “ _Some of the girls will be up soon, anyways.”_

 

She’d been surprised to find out how many of her students wanted to stay at Robichaux for the holiday. For some of them, specifically the ones with religious or unaccepting families, “going home” simply wasn’t an option. Robichaux _was_ home. Others just chose to stay.

 

And Cordelia had been thrilled.

 

She rolls onto her back, moving one arm up to support her head and resting the other on her stomach.

 

Misty seems to either feel or sense Cordelia’s separation from her and, still sound asleep, swings one long arm over to lay across Cordelia’s waist. Cordelia smiles and takes her hand out from under Misty’s so that she can lace their fingers together.

 

She sighs, completely content, and her wandering eyes catch the garland that she and Misty had hung around their four-poster bed.

 

It had been Misty’s idea, fueled by a trip to the Christmas tree farm with Cordelia, where they also happened to be selling strings of real garland. When they’d finally retired to their bedroom after a night of decorating the tree, they worked together to swag the decor around the posts before collapsing onto the bed in a giddy mess of tangled limbs.

 

As Cordelia looks at the woman sleeping beside her, she can’t believe it’s only their third Christmas together.

 

She wonders, because she can’t help it, laying here in the quiet, what she was doing on her third Christmas with Hank. She looks at the garland again and a memory appears in her mind, clear as day.

 

~~~

 

“Hi.”

 

Hank doesn’t move from where he’s standing in front of the wall, still working at patching the small crack in the wallpaper that had appeared. Cordelia surprises him from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and dropping a kiss to his shoulder blade.

 

“I was thinking maybe we could get a tree today,” she says. “What do you think?”

 

Hank sets the smoothing brush down and turns around to face Cordelia.

 

“Like, at the store?”

 

“No,” Cordelia says slowly. She smiles and her tongue pokes out between her teeth. “A real tree.”

 

“Babe,” Hank says, raising an eyebrow, “those are a lot more work than you think they are.”

 

“I know. But we have the space for it. And I think it would make some of the girls really happy.”

 

Hank tilts his head sideways. “You think they care whether we get a fake tree or a real one?”

 

“Please?” Cordelia runs a finger up her husband’s arm, hating herself for the words that come next. “For me?”

 

Hank smiles. “I thought you wanted to put up lights today.”

 

The subject change is not lost on Cordelia, but she goes along anyway.

 

“I do,” she says. “But we can do both. It’s a Saturday; what else do we have going on?”

 

Hank wraps his arms around Cordelia’s waist, his hands clasped shut behind the small of her back. “How about,” he says, “I go to Target for the tree, and you do the lights here?”

 

Inside, Cordelia deflates. She does her best to not look disappointed when she speaks. “I can’t do the lights by myself, honey.” She smiles. “The house is huge, and you’re the one who does this stuff for a living.”

 

“Use your magic,” Hank says, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “It’ll take you two minutes.”

 

“I don’t want to use magic,” Cordelia says, suddenly defensive. She stiffens in his arms and Hank releases her.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because... I don’t know. I just don’t. It’s Christmas,” she says. She doubts he knows what she means, though, because Cordelia herself hardly knows what she means. It’s not as if he’s ever really been able to read her.

 

“Baby, I’m not going to spend five hours doing what you could do with the flick of your wrist. This is stupid; you do the lights and I’ll go get the tree, and then we can enjoy the day together.”

 

“Don’t call me stupid.”

 

“I didn’t call you—”

 

“No, forget it.” Cordelia steps back to put more distance between them. “We don’t have to do Christmas decorations.”

 

“But—”

 

“It’s fine. It’s not like there are that many girls here anyway, what with this Academy hardly being an Academy anymore these days. There’d be no one to appreciate it.”

 

 _“Except me_ ,” Cordelia thinks, but refuses to voice it.

 

“I think we would appreciate it,” Hank says, and Cordelia feels her spirits lift instantly.

 

“Really?”

 

“Definitely,” Hank smiles. “I’ll run to Target for the tree. You got the lights?”

 

Cordelia opens her mouth to protest, heart sinking again, and then closes it. Marriage, after all, she’d learned, is about compromise.

 

“Sounds great,” she says. She’s hardly convincing, but Hank’s smile widens and he brings her into a hug.

 

“Love you, Cords.”

 

“Love you.”

 

~~~

 

Cordelia feels a twinge of bitterness for having put up with his behavior for as long as she did.

 

In the darkness of the room, she rolls her eyes.

 

 _“You dealt with a lot worse than some general assholery, Cordelia_ ,” she thinks. “ _For Christ’s sake, he wanted to murder the girls. He tried to kill Misty_.”

 

She bites down on nothing, grinding her teeth together. But, before she can get angrier, Misty sighs in her sleep and Cordelia feels her own face instantly soften.

 

Not for the first time, she wonders how she had gone from a relationship with someone with a complete lack of respect for life, to being with someone who had the highest regard for life in every form.

 

She’d known since meeting Misty that she was one to preserve living things with the utmost seriousness. She still remembers the first time she ever got to truly see it in action, not long after Misty had arrived at Robichaux.

 

~~~

 

“ _There_ ya go. Easy does it.”

 

As Cordelia descends the stairs, she hears the soft murmuring coming from somewhere on the ground floor. She follows the light coming from the kitchen, and quiets her footsteps when she hears what she recognizes as Misty’s voice.

 

“Tastes good, don’t it?”

 

Cordelia peers her head around the door frame, careful not to be seen. It takes her a few moments, but she finally spots Misty, crouched down on the floor in her pajamas. She’s holding something in the palm of one of her hands, and Cordelia wishes she’d brought her glasses so that she could see more clearly.

 

“Good job, little fella. Keep goin’,” Misty says, and that’s when Cordelia sees the dark spot on the floor in front of Misty.

 

And it’s _moving_.

 

Misty picks up another of whatever is in her hand, and Cordelia hears the familiar sound of a cracker breaking into pieces. She watches as Misty sprinkles the crumbs onto the floor, seemingly in a trail that Cordelia’s eyes follow to the kitchen door.

 

The bug, which Cordelia has realized is a cockroach — and a rather large one, if you ask her — moves calculatedly along the path that Misty has created for it.

 

Slowly, Cordelia takes a step to enter the kitchen. Misty seems to either hear or sense her, because she looks up and offers a sheepish smile.

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Misty says. She watches Cordelia walk over to the counter to make herself a cup of coffee.

 

“Me, either. I ate way too much sugar during our little party.”

 

“‘S’not a proper Gingerbread House party unless you eat too much sugar,” Misty says.

 

Cordelia just shakes her head at this and smiles as she readies the Keurig with her preferred flavor. Misty continues leading the insect along its path until, to her surprise, Cordelia joins her on the floor.

 

“Sorry,” Misty says. “I know you’re not too keen on bugs. I came down here to get some cereal and then saw this little guy.”

 

“It’s going to take you at least an hour to get him out the door,” Cordelia says in response. “I wouldn’t exactly call him Usain Bolt.”

 

Misty shrugs slowly. “It’s alright. It’s our fault he made it in here anyway, what with there bein’ flakes of icing and candy canes all over the floor.”

 

“The staff must have gotten lazy,” Cordelia says. She takes a sip of her coffee and watches as the cockroach moves another half-inch further. Briefly, she makes a mental note to have the staff bleach the floors tomorrow. Twice.

 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Cordelia asks her. She tries to ignore the fluttering in her stomach when Misty grins up at her.

 

“It was the best. You’re so great for comin’ up with that.”

 

“It was Zoe’s idea, actually,” Cordelia admits.

 

“Maybe so. But you’re the one who gave approval — even though I know y’don’t like all the sugar and the mess.”

 

Cordelia feels herself blush, so she brings her coffee mug up to her mouth to hide it. “I’m just happy when everyone else is happy.”

 

Misty is still smiling at her, so Cordelia is almost grateful when Misty is distracted by the cockroach approaching her finger.

 

Cordelia gasps, but Misty simply looks down at the insect on her hand and uses her free hand to sprinkle a few more crumbs.

 

“There you go, darlin’,” Misty says sweetly, gently stroking its back, and Cordelia thinks she must be out of her mind to wish that she were a goddamn cockroach.

 

~~~

 

Cordelia brings their joined hands up to her lips to kiss the back of Misty’s. Misty stays fast asleep, and only snuggles closer to Cordelia. Her arm slides upwards until her palm is resting just under Cordelia’s breast, and Cordelia feels almost instant heat between her thighs.

 

Quickly, she glances at the clock. She huffs under her breath upon realizing that it’s only half past five (read: too early to wake her wife up for sex). She wonders, briefly, when she’s going to pull out the red lingerie she’d bought to surprise Misty for Christmas.

 

Definitely sooner, rather than later.

 

She’s surprised when her brain suddenly offers her yet another memory of Hank. But, while it’s rare of her to think of him so frequently, she occasionally can’t help but compare him to Misty — if only to ponder all of the ways in which they were so incredibly different.

 

~~~

 

“Hey, Cords?”

 

The yell that comes from the bathroom jolts Cordelia out of her thought process. She drops the piece of lingerie on the bed and rushes into the bathroom, where she can hear the shower water still running.

 

“Yes?”

 

Hank pokes his head out of the shower. “What time is it? I don’t want to be late for this thing. Your mother hates me enough already.”

 

Cordelia shakes her head. “She doesn’t hate you,” she says.

 

Hank ignores the lie and resumes bathing. “What time is it?”

 

“We have about thirty minutes. After I get dressed, I’ll just need to do my makeup.”

 

“Alright. Be out in a minute.”

 

Cordelia smiles and, closing the door behind her, rushes back into their bedroom.

 

“Now or never,” she says to herself. “Don’t be a coward.”

 

Before she can give it another thought, she unties and drops her robe, leaving her completely naked. She grabs the piece of lingerie — a black, lace teddy with a plunging V-neck front — and steps into it, pulling the straps over her shoulders.

 

She takes quick look in the mirror, pivoting on one foot to see how the side and back look.

 

A hundred insecurities swim through her head, and she chides herself for even letting the woman at La Perla talk her into to buying it in the first place.

 

Her husband, though, had been distant lately — and that was something she couldn’t refute. Hank had been traveling more for work, occasionally staying longer. To his credit, he always called almost every day while he was away. But it didn’t completely squash the part of Cordelia that wanted to do this for him — and for their marriage.

 

She hears the shower turning off and, quickly, takes the dress hanging on her closet door off of its hanger and slips it on over the teddy. She does a brief check in the mirror to make sure that there are no signs of her lingerie under the dress, and she almost jumps in surprise when Hank re-enters the room.

 

“Wow,” he says, eyeing Cordelia from head to foot. “You look amazing.”

 

Cordelia waves him off. “I haven’t even done my makeup yet.”

 

“Seriously, Cords. Come here.”

 

Cordelia ducks her head and walks into to her husband’s open arms.

 

“You look beautiful,” Hank says. “I am going to be the luckiest man there.”

 

Cordelia smiles. “I want us to try and have a really good time tonight. It’s Christmas, and it’s romantic, and I’m just glad we get to be together.”

 

“I know. I’m going to get dressed, though I know I won’t look half as good as you.”

 

“You picked up the tux, right?”

 

“Just like you told me,” he promises. “Go do your makeup. I’ll be ready in a few.”

 

Cordelia does as he says, carefully applying her makeup so that it will match well with not only her dress, but also with her lingerie for later.

 

“Alright,” Hank says after several minutes, appearing in the doorway fully dressed in his tux. “Time for torture.”

 

Cordelia smiles sympathetically. “I really don’t want to be there any more than you do.”

 

“I know. But I’ll be by your side all night, baby. Like you said — we’ll try to have fun. We don’t have to stay long.”

 

Cordelia hums, thinking of the lingerie under her dress. “Promise?”

 

Hank leans in to kiss her. “Promised.”

 

The party, an exclusive holiday event co-hosted by Fiona Goode herself, is teeming with New Orleans socialites. A waitstaff member offers both of them a glass of champagne, which Hank takes down in two sips before setting it back down on the tray and taking another.

 

“Honey,” Cordelia says under her breath.

 

“Your mother is coming our way,” Hank says, by way of explanation.

 

“Cordelia,” Fiona says, leaning in to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, darling.” Cordelia can tell she’s wasted already. Fiona turns to look at Hank, her gaze becoming more disinterested. “Hank.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Fiona. Thank you for having us.”

 

Fiona laughs. “People would have asked questions if I had my daughter here without her husband.”

 

Cordelia goes rigid beside Hank. “ _Mother_.”

 

“Enjoy the evening, Delia,” Fiona tells her. “The martinis are fabulous.”

 

“I can tell,” Cordelia says bitterly, but Fiona has already turned to walk in the opposite direction without giving Hank a second look.

 

“A pleasure, as always,” Hank says. He chugs the second glass of champagne and sets it on the closest surface he can find. “Let’s go to the bar.”

 

Cordelia follows Hank to the main bar, where he orders a double scotch for himself and a martini for Cordelia. When he turns around, drinks in hands, Cordelia furrows her eyebrows.

 

“Honey, I have my champagne,” she reminds him, holding up the glass they’d been offered not five minutes ago.

 

“Well, I just ordered you this,” Hank says.

 

“I’m fine with mine.”

 

Hank rolls his eyes, and they land on a woman seemingly waiting to get the bartender’s attention. Cordelia follows his gaze towards the woman, dressed in a red, skin-tight number. Her breasts are making their best attempt at gaining freedom from her dress, and Cordelia gives Hank a confused look that her husband doesn’t notice.

 

“Can I offer you a martini?” Hank asks the woman, who smiles salaciously and takes the drink from him.

 

“Thank you,” she says. “I’ve been waiting here for forever.”

 

“I’m surprised,” is all Hank says, and Cordelia feels her jaw open involuntarily. “Have a great night.”

 

Hank moves away from the bar, placing his hand on the small of Cordelia’s back. Cordelia straightens at the touch, rather than leaning into him, but Hank doesn’t notice.

 

By the time an hour and a half has passed, Hank has had more than enough to drink, and Cordelia is ready to leave. She corrals him out of the event and, with the help of the Valet employees, is able to get them a taxi home.

 

Inside the cab, Hank slumps against Cordelia. He turns to press a sloppy kiss to her shoulder and moves one arm to get a hand between her legs.

 

“Hank, not here,” she whispers.

 

Hank continues anyway, rough fingers pushing against Cordelia’s thighs, until Cordelia finally grabs his hand to stop him.

 

“We’ll be home in fifteen minutes,” she tells him, but his head lolls back against her shoulder and she’s not even sure he heard her.

 

By the time they pull up to Robichaux, Hank is fast asleep and Cordelia has to shove her husband to wake him and get him out of the car. As soon as they arrive in their room upstairs, he stumbles to the bed and falls face-first onto the mattress.

 

Cordelia peels off her shoes and makes her way over to the bed, where she sits beside Hank.

 

“Honey,” she says, feeling beyond pathetic. She rubs his back and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Hank.”

 

He offers a grunt, so Cordelia pushes a strap of her dress off of her shoulder. “I have something for you,” she says.

 

When she gets no response, she reaches behind to unzip the back of her dress. It allows her to pull down the entire front, revealing the top half of the black, lacy teddy.

 

“Hank,” she says again, and this time, at least, he cracks open the eye that’s not smushed against the bed. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

 

He mutters something she can’t understand and closes his eyes.

 

Cordelia feels tears coming, so she gets up, quietly, and walks to the bathroom. After closing the door behind her, she sinks slowly down to the cold tile floor.

 

She sobs as freely as she wants, knowing that Hank wouldn’t hear her regardless.

 

~~~

 

Looking back, Cordelia thinks that that horrible night may have been the first time that Cordelia knew her marriage to Hank was over. Despite the fact that she’d never considered herself to be a very sexual person, she’d wanted to plan something like that for Hank. She’d wanted to feel close to him, and for him to feel close to her. And, admittedly, she’d wanted to remind him of just how good he had it with her.

 

She’d never before felt more disrespected or humiliated than that night.

 

It had also marked the last time that Cordelia had bought lingerie or felt inclined to do anything like that for a long while.

 

She remembers how nervous she was to wear some the first time she used it to surprise Misty. Standing there in front of her, in the white, lacy, silk bodysuit — Cordelia felt like she was pretending to be something she absolutely wasn’t.

 

Outside of the bedroom, Cordelia could be confident. Secure in her power and position, and never (well, rarely) need to seek validation from others. The quiet, vulnerable atmosphere of sex, though, never provided a safety net. She was stripped down, exposed, insecure.

 

Thinking on it now, Cordelia knows she should have known better than to use her experiences with Hank as a precedent for her relationship with Misty.

 

Misty — that night, but also throughout — had been nothing but validating, wrapping Cordelia in a blanket of love and security while also being appropriately speechless at the sight.

 

To say the least, she’d been thrilled.

 

~~~

 

“ _Shit_.”

 

The clank of the spoon hitting the floor vibrates through the kitchen, and Cordelia bends quickly to pick it up.

 

“Oh, hey, Cordelia.”

 

She turns to see Zoe staring at her. Cordelia has a frozen spoon in both hands, and she knows it’s too late to hide them.

 

“Hi,” she says thinly.

 

“Why are you freezing spoo—Oh.” Zoe smiles knowingly, and Cordelia turns even redder. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t see them at all. Except for, well, there’s that one kind of under your ear—”

 

Cordelia’s hand instinctively goes up to cover the hickey with her fingers.

 

“—But the high neck of your dress is good. If there are others, they’re not visible.”

 

“Zoe, pl—”

 

“I won’t say a word,” Zoe says immediately. “I promise.” She pauses. “A cold compress also helps.”

 

Cordelia purses her lips. “Thank you.”

 

“And, for the record – don’t hate me for saying this – but it’s kind of a nice change.” When Cordelia looks confused, Zoe offers a smile. “It’s good to see you happy. Both of you.”

 

Zoe leaves her be, but her words linger with Cordelia.

 

Had she really been so miserable before Misty that the difference was this blatantly obvious? She’s thinking about this, mindlessly picking up things around the kitchen, when suddenly she finds herself in Misty’s arms.

 

Misty rests her hands on Cordelia’s stomach and places a soft kiss on her ear, and Cordelia stops cleaning to just let herself be held.

 

“Hi,” Misty says. “How’s your day been?”

 

Misty is always doing this, these days. She hugs Cordelia from behind, reaches for her hand when it’s within distance, grabs her ass when she’s sure no one else is looking. Constantly seeking out reasons and opportunities to touch her. Fulfilling a need that Cordelia hadn’t even known she’d been missing.

 

“It’s been fine,” Cordelia answers. “I’ve been through about a dozen frozen spoons, thank to you.”

 

Misty laughs against her ear. “Poor baby. Anything I can do to help?”

 

“I think you’ve done enough,” Cordelia says, but there’s a smile in her voice and Misty hugs her tighter. “Actually, I change my mind. You owe me.”

 

“Oh, do I?”

 

“Mhmm,” Cordelia giggles. “One orgasm per hickey you left on me.”

 

Misty kisses her shoulder. “I’ll give you two per, how ‘bout that?”

 

Cordelia shakes her head, mockingly wistful. “That could take all night. I’m covered in them.”

 

Misty turns her so that they’re facing each other and arches an eyebrow. “You won’t hear me complainin’.” She leans in for a kiss. “Sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist you last night.” She watches as Cordelia’s cheeks flush and she kisses her again. “You know I love you in nothin’ at all, but that thing you had on…did things to me.”

 

“I’m glad you liked it. There can definitely be more where that came from.”

 

Misty tilts her head, eyebrows raised, and drags Cordelia upstairs.

 

~~~

 

Cordelia grins at the memory.

 

Yes, there certainly had been _a lot_ more where that had come from over the last few years.

 

She opens her mouth for a long yawn, finally feeling the effects of having woken up so early. Misty still dead to the world beside her, Cordelia eyes the wedding ring on her wife’s finger. For a woman whose rings are as much a part of her identity as her hair or her personality, it’s pointed that it’s the only one Misty never takes off.

 

Cordelia looks at her own ring, a vintage moonstone piece that Misty had bought from her favorite store.

 

She hadn’t wanted another diamond – not that she’d told Misty that.

 

Whether Misty had known it instinctually or simply chose what she thought Cordelia would like best, she’d picked perfectly. Cordelia had sobbed upon seeing it, and Misty’d had to ask her then-girlfriend if her bawling was indication of a “yes.”

 

When Hank had proposed, he had gotten her a gorgeous diamond ring that Cordelia knew was out of his price range. It had, at the time, meant a lot to her that he was willing to spend so much on something to make her so happy. The ring was gorgeous, despite it being something that she didn’t necessarily feel like was unique to _her_.

 

With Misty, Cordelia knew even before Misty slid the ring onto her finger that it belonged there. It was perfectly _her_. Just as with her entire relationship with Misty, Cordelia had felt seen.

 

The difference was not lost on her.

 

Also unlike Hank’s ring, Cordelia knew that Misty’s would remain on her finger forever. She could be confident that she would never have another nightmarish night like the one where she took off her wedding ring, never to put it on again.

 

~~~

 

“Five, four, three, two, _one_.”

 

Cordelia watches as the timer finally slows to a stop, the sound ringing throughout the kitchen.

 

She bends to pull the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and sets the pan neatly on the counter top. She’s just transferring the last cookie to the drying rack when she sees her phone buzzing.

 

Cordelia smiles, slipping the oven mitt off of her hand and tapping to answer the call.

 

“Hi, honey.” Cordelia turns to lean against the kitchen counter. “You called at just the right time; I’m in the middle of making a surprise for y—“

 

“Cords, sweetie.”

 

Cordelia stops at the tone of Hank’s voice. When she doesn’t say anything, Hank speaks again.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“Hank,” Cordelia says, after a few long seconds of silence. “Hank, why are you sorry?”

 

Cordelia listens for any sounds in the background — any clues as to what her husband is about to say to her — but all she’s met with is a quiet white noise.

 

“I just need to be in Boston right now,” Hank finally says.

 

Cordelia, too, takes another minute before speaking. “You are not doing this to me. Why are you doing this to me?”

 

“Cords, honey, I know you’re upset, but—”

 

“It is Christmas Eve, for Christ’s sake.”

 

Cordelia thinks about telling him that she has no one. That the few girls she has in her care at Robichaux had gone home, and she’ll be spending the holiday alone. She won’t, though, make herself more pitiful in his eyes than she is already.

 

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Hank says. “I can’t help it that I have to work.”

 

“Bull _-shit_ you have to work.” Cordelia feels tears welling in her eyes. She blinks them back, keeping the quivering out of her voice to save whatever dignity she has left. “I know your father doesn’t really expect you to leave your wife on Christmas.”

 

“I tried, Cords. I tried to get off—”

 

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” Cordelia spits. “Which one is it this time, Hank? Is she a brunette? A redhead? I know you love the redheads.”

 

“Cordelia, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“Ridiculous? Hank, it’s _Christmas_. It’s Christmas, and you aren’t coming home because you’re too busy sleeping around in Boston.”

 

Cordelia is fully crying, now, but she’s sure to mute the phone any time she shows any signs that would be obviously audible to Hank on the phone.

 

“Cordelia, honey, please,” he says, but doesn’t offer anything further.

 

“Is this really all I am to you?” Cordelia’s voice is soft, having shrunk to reflect the utter insecurity she feels. “Just some girl you can leave at home and lie to?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Because I am more than that. I may have made the mistake of marrying you, but aside from that, I have made a pretty successful goddamn life for myself.”

 

“Cordelia—”

 

“Goodbye, Hank.”

 

~~~

 

Cordelia is only mildly surprised to realize that, upon recalling that painful conversation, she feels nothing. Not anger, or hurt., or disappointment. Not even regret, for the time she spent being mistreated by Hank.

 

Perhaps, she thinks, she’s grateful for Hank’s shortcomings. If it hadn’t been for his infidelities and betrayals, Cordelia never would have divorced him and gotten the opportunity to fall in love again.

 

She never would have allowed herself to give into the feelings that she surprised herself by having for Misty.

 

Misty, who she loves more than she’s sure anyone has ever loved another human.

 

Misty, who filled in all of the gaping holes left in Cordelia’s heart by Hank or Fiona.

 

Misty, who gave Cordelia the only thing in the world she’d known she wanted since she was a little girl.

 

Cordelia slides her hand over the plane of her stomach, mostly flat save for a small bump that is still going unnoticed.

 

They hadn’t told anyone yet, wanting to keep the news between the two of them for a little while longer.

 

Cordelia doesn’t regret spending all of those years wishing for a child with Hank. That, she knows, would be unfair. She can’t help, though, but be thankful for that time of utter heartbreak and hopelessness. She knows now that she and Hank weren’t meant to have a child together. That they weren’t meant to be with one another at all.

 

That there was someone else, someone who would hold the key to everything Cordelia ever dreamed off, waiting on the other side.

 

Cordelia isn’t sure why it felt so different this time around, only that it did.

 

She had been a wife before. She’d said the vows, signed the license, lived and loved another person as his spouse. She’d been referred to by him by “my wife,” and she’d loved it. She’d had in-laws, even if Harry and Julia weren’t her favorite people in the world at the time. She’d had familiar arguments about leaving dirty socks on the floor or forgetting to put the cap back on the toothpaste.

 

Hank’s betrayals hadn’t just ripped Cordelia of the person she loved and wanted to build a life with; they had stolen her identity as a happy wife. Hank, with his infidelities and lies, had stripped away a part of who she was.

 

It wasn’t until after the divorce was finalized and the dust had settled that Cordelia realized just how much she missed it.

 

For the longest time, she couldn’t put it into words. She tried to think about what it was that she longed for, but each time she got close enough to figuring it out, it ended in Cordelia berating herself for seemingly missing Hank. Hank, who had cheated on her and deceived her and attempted to take her girls away from her.

 

Then, to make matters immeasurably worse, The Seven Wonders had happened, taking Misty away from her forever, and Cordelia stopped trying altogether to pinpoint where any of her feelings of heartbreak and longing came from.

 

It wasn’t until last fall, when the woman who was once her closest friend and — unbeknownst to Misty — the object of Cordelia’s affection, had miraculously walked back through the doors of the Academy that Cordelia was able to identify exactly what she wanted.

 

She can still remember that day, walking with Misty back to her office, both of them still wiping tears from experiencing and witnessing Misty’s reunion with the other girls. As soon as the door had shut behind them, it barely took a beat before Misty had pulled Cordelia into a hug much more intimate than she’d been willing to initiate in front of everyone else. The next thing Cordelia knew, they were kissing. And, almost as overwhelming as the feeling of her lips against Misty’s, was the realization that Cordelia could actually get exactly what she wanted.

 

She wanted to be Misty’s.

 

She wanted to know that she was Misty’s for forever, and that Misty was hers. She wanted to wear a ring again, and know that each time she felt it or looked at it, she would be reminded of Misty and their love for each other. She wanted to travel with Misty, have children with her, and share every aspect of their lives.

 

Cordelia scoots back down, closer to her, and Misty reacts instantly by tugging her wife close and spooning her.

 

Within minutes, Cordelia is asleep again.

 

. . .

 

“ _Mist_.”

 

Cordelia’s slurred, croaky word is only met with more kisses, ones being peppered all over her face and chest. She opens her eyes and sees Misty, hair wild and clearly wide awake.

 

“Time’sit?”

 

“ _Christmas_ time,” Misty answers. “How are you feelin’?”

 

Cordelia snorts, bringing one hand up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “I feel fine. Just tell me it’s not before 9 AM.”

 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Misty says, and kisses her lips.

 

“Honey, it’s a Saturday.” Cordelia contemplates telling Misty that she’d spent two hours of the night wide awake, but she knows her wife would only worry and then make her go back to sleep... and Cordelia is very interested in what Misty has in store.

 

“Yes, it is.” Misty continues kissing down Cordelia’s jawline and neck as she talks. “Which means that there ain’t no classes, no meetings, and no work to distract us from doin’ _all_ the Christmas stuff.”

 

 “How long have you been awake?” Cordelia’s words are punctured by a gasp when Misty bites on her collarbone.

 

“Long enough to plan our entire day.” Misty pulls Cordelia’s nipple into her mouth, wetting and toying with it until it hardens on her tongue. Cordelia moans loudly and Misty releases, her smile absolutely predatory as she looks up at her. “This is just how it starts,” she says, and Cordelia sees no reason to complain any further.

 

Misty pays her other breast the same attention, and then drags her lips down. She presses extra kisses to Cordelia’s stomach, as she’s begun doing, and continues her path until her head is buried in between Cordelia’s thighs.

 

After, Cordelia snuggles close to Misty and presses a kiss to her chest, finding it damp with sweat. She angles her head to look up at Misty. “I hope you built a shower into the plan for our day.”

 

Misty laughs. She can feel how hot Cordelia’s skin still is under the hand she has on her back, and her cheeks have been flushed since before her first orgasm of the morning. “Sure did,” Misty says. “Though now that I’m lookin’ at you, I kinda think it was a bad idea to plan anything at all.”

 

Without warning, Misty rolls them so that she’s hovering over Cordelia. “If we didn’t have so many damn errands to run, I’d keep you here all day.”

 

“We don’t have to do any of them,” Cordelia says, and both of them notice it comes out as a plea.

 

“But I want to,” Misty says, and kisses her. “My _wife_ and I are going to finish decoratin’ the house, and go ice skating, and look at the lights downtown, and all kinds of things.”

 

Cordelia grins, completely stuck on the way Misty had exaggerated calling Cordelia her wife. Even after three years, it still makes her heart soar.

 

As she lies under Misty, both of them naked and sweating and grinning like idiots, she can feel the difference.

 

“Okay,” Cordelia says, reaching up to press her lips to Misty’s. “Your _wife_ agrees.”        


End file.
